


Gathering Time

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Short, Trailer Spoilers, continuing my streak of writing something for every episode that's released this season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG S5 ACT 3 TRAILER!!!The Admiral likes gathering time.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	Gathering Time

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back everybody!!! Who's ready to get their hearts broken by the final act?

The Admiral likes gathering time. The new people all sit and stand around a room, still and attentive while one of them talks, and there are so many laps to choose from.  _ His  _ people are not here right now, but they each gave him a kiss on the head before they left, and they're never gone for long, so he doesn't mind.

Today he has selected the lap of the one who wears the long piece of cloth around their neck, with the little balls on strings at the ends. This person always lets him play with the cloth, dangling the strings in front of his paws for him to bat at and giggling when he purrs. When he gets bored and sits down in their lap, they scratch behind his ears in the way he loves, attentive to when he leans into their hand and when he leans away, letting him guide which spots get the most attention.

The person that everyone was watching stops talking, and they all clap their hands politely, creating a staggering echo of noise around the room. He flicks his ears in irritation at the brief pause in petting that this causes.

One of the others says something, sparking a conversation among a few of those that fill the room. The one he's sitting on returns to petting him, pausing just once to give a little titter of laughter in response to a comment someone else had made.

There's a frisson of nerves among the group as they talk, tension held in the way they carry themselves, the stiff posture they take where they sit and stand. He bats at the hand of the one petting him to get their attention back on him when it drifts, annoyed at this break in protocol. They ought to be in the gathering for several hours more, and he really  _ ought  _ to be the only thing they're paying attention to.

The one at the front of the room, who had been talking first, seems to be trying to calm the others down, speaking in a slow and reassuring voice. The one standing by the wall, who had started the debate, comments back. The other occupants of the room glance at each other, worried.

Another of the speakers spreads their hands in front of them placatingly, smiling, and says something in what feels like a final tone. The rest of the group nods, shrugs, seems to agree; all except the one who started the debate, who rolls their eyes and snorts. The others wave at them to quiet down, and a new person is ushered up to the front of the room to begin their talking time.

The Admiral purrs in satisfaction at this: the gathering is back on track, and the one he is sitting on will not be standing up for a long time yet.

There's still some tension hanging around the room as the new person begins speaking; there always is. The humans have all been a mess of stress and fear since the world changed, even his two. They made him leave his home, with its warm radiators and soft pillows, to come down to these dark and drafty tunnels because of it. They came with him, though, and brought him all these new people to pay attention to him when they're gone, so he doesn't really mind it.

He puts his head on his paws, settling deeper into the lap of the person he has been sitting on, and closes his eyes. The speaker's voice is a gentle murmur in the background, meshing in with the soft sounds of shifting cloth as the others settle in again, getting comfortable.

He does not know why they are all so on edge about the changes that have happened to the world. It is strange, to be sure, and he misses his radiators, but there are still warm laps to sit on and lots of people to adore him.

As far as the Admiral is concerned, life is good.


End file.
